A Study in Purple
by Gfyuwatr7
Summary: With the presidential election looming near, Luke Ramirez fears for the future of his new family at Xavier's Institute for Higher Learning. When he decides to take action, he is confronted with a figure from his past. One he'd hoped never to hear from again. Does not fit into any particular continuity or universe. Political themes obvious, but please no arguments. Marvel X-over.


A Study in Purple

 _An X-Men and Marvel One-Shot by Gfyuwatr7_

Disclaimer: X-Men and all other Marvel characters and scenarios are the property of Marvel. I own nothing.

Author's Note: This story does not follow any specific continuity or timeline. All I'm doing is drawing from different sources to create this story. Please do not try to fit this into any established universe, because it won't make sense.

* * *

 _September 15, 2024_

 _New York City_

"You don't need to be a genius to recognize that mutants don't belong in this country! Or anywhere in the world for that matter! Just look at what's happened to the world in the past decade or so. Need I remind the world of the incident that took place here, in this very city? When a hole opened up in the sky and aliens came pouring in to destroy our way of life? And the Avengers, what did they do? Why, they caused even more damage than the aliens did! They had no regard for human life! Why do you think that is? Because. They. Are. Not. Human!"

"America, I don't know why this is even a discussion we need to have. We've seen enough of these so-called 'heroes' to know that they're dangerous. Washington D.C., when government funded helicarriers crashed into our city, in broad daylight! Now, the government denies it, but reputable sources have suggested that Captain America, our very own national mascot, was responsible for these events! And again, not just there! Sokovia, Geneva, Germany, Wakanda! And need I remind everyone about the Lagos Incident, when the Scarlet Witch blew up a hospital?"

"Those are only a few examples in the last decade, I could go on! But I think you see the picture. These freaks, these inhumans, have been among us for far to long. We've tried to contain them numerous times, but it has become clear that this can no longer work. We need to act. America needs to act!"

* * *

 _Xavier's Institute for Higher Learning_

"These were the words of former pastor William Stryker at an election rally earlier today in the afternoon. While his comments against mutants have drawn criticism from virtually every party in the running for the presidency, Mr. Stryker has gained massive support from generally conservative voters and even some with more liberal leanings. Pleased stay tuned for interviews with potential voters on all sides of the debate, and don't forget to leave your thoughts on our social media accounts. This is Linda Park for Colbert News, signing off."

Luke Ramirez stared at the monitor for a few moments. All around him, the other students were milling about, apparently oblivious to the report that had just ended. A few comments here and there, usually followed by a snicker or a sigh of exasperation. But no one seemed overly concerned that a once disgraced pastor of a non-denominational church was suddenly a favorite for the presidential election. He thought it very strange.

Luke felt sick to his stomach. He knew full well the power some men could hold over others, using only their words. This William Stryker was just one of those people. So had his father been, before his "unfortunate" passing at the hands of an alcoholic.

Luke left the lounge, pacing the hallways of the school at random. He wasn't interested in going anywhere.

The fact of the matter was, he could make his classmates see reason. He knew he had it in him, with the gift his father had left behind. But he refused to use it. He had promised never to use it again. And yet, he remembered a conversation he'd once had with a friend, Sooraya Qadir.

"Our powers are gifts from Allah, and we are meant to use them for the good of others. We cannot hide or change who we are, but our gifts do not have to make us. Our actions do."

Luke stopped mid-stride. He found himself in his room, a hoodie draped over his arm and a ball cap in his hand. He stared at himself in his mirror.

 _How did this happen?_

* * *

Luke paid the cab driver an extra amount for his speed, and stepped out into the cool New York City night. He knew he would need to hurry. His friends had all left for Salem Center for a spot of dinner. It was a weekend, so there wasn't any particular concern over returning to the school after-hours. But he wanted to be cautious. He knew he only had one chance at his mission before he got cold feet and changed his mind.

He had purposely asked to be dropped off a few blocks away from the condominiums where the former pastor lived. Something else to find suspicious; William Stryker had gone bankrupt just the past year. Now he was leasing a penthouse suite in a very affluent part of town. He was not the only one to have noticed that, at least.

He saw the doorman at the entrance to the building he was meant to infiltrate. His stomach churned with nerves over what he was about to do. He had made a promise. Why was he breaking it now, when he had finally learned to control his powers?

 _Remember why you're doing this. This is for all mutants. For everyone. For Sooraya._

"No loitering," said the doorman. His voice was raised, and he had quickly straightened his posture on seeing Luke approach.

He glanced at himself in one of the building's windows. The dark navy hoodie with a black ball cap underneath, and rose-tinted glasses gave him quite a suspicious appearance. Perhaps he should turn back.

"Are you deaf? No loitering!" the doorman practically yelled. A surge of anger rushed through Luke, and before he could think, he had pulled one of his gloves off. He raised his palm slightly towards the man and spoke in a calm, clear voice.

"You will let me pass."

* * *

"Hm, maybe I overdid that a little," mumbled Luke in the elevator. His passion for a certain science fiction film series was influencing his actions to a ridiculous degree. He had quoted at least three different movies in the past five minutes, while convincing the guards to wipe all footage of him from the security tapes and to give him the keys to Stryker's penthouse.

He had surprised himself at how easily he had broken the rules he had set for himself. He didn't know whether to feel guilty, disappointed, or proud over his choices. But it was too late to turn back now, he thought as the elevator doors opened.

He stepped into the hallway quietly. He needn't have, for the entire floor was unoccupied save for the penthouse itself. He crossed to the door, swiped the key over the lock, and stepped inside.

The first thing Luke noticed was the large amount of purple ambient lighting in the room. It was dark, but there were more than a few lamps and light strips that glowed with the royal color. He himself had always felt claustrophobic when thinking of it. He shook off the feeling of dread creeping in the back of his mind and examined his surroundings more closely. He needed to find the "good" pastor quickly, for his window was closing fast. He had spent too much time quoting ancient movies in the lobby and security room downstairs.

The condo was very well furnished. Something else that didn't add up. Plush sofas and chairs, bear skin rugs. There was even a fully-stocked bar in the corner. Luke shook his head. He wondered whether Stryker's supporters knew where their money was going. And yet the money had to be coming from somewhere else too.

There were several doors leading to different rooms, as well as a staircase leading further up. Luke decided to try that first; for some reason, rich people liked to sleep further away from the ground. He pulled off his shoes first, allowing him to glide over the floor without making a sound. He climbed upwards carefully. He may have wiped all evidence of his passing and ensured that the security feeds were switched off. But that didn't mean Stryker couldn't have other security measures. He was rumored to have been the leader of a military unit some years ago.

The stairs led to a small indoor balcony overlooking the interior of the condo. There was only one door to open. He looked all over the exterior of the door frame. He was no expert on security systems or alarms. He was only just starting to realize how underprepared he was. He froze.

There was a voice coming from the door. And it was getting closer. He stepped away from the door, pressing himself against the wall as the William Stryker barged his way through.

"What do you mean, gone?!" he shouted into an earpiece. He stood at the edge of the balcony, clutching the rail tightly. "You do realize how long I've waited for a working prototype? Those devices are the key to winning this war! I'll be damned if I'm set back again! Track down whoever did this, and get that collar back!" He clicked a button on his earpiece, then tore it out of his ear and threw it to the floor. He sighed wearily, running a hand down his face.

If Luke hadn't been planning to sabotage his bid for power, he might've felt sorry for Stryker. The old man turned around and froze.

"How did you-?"

Luke raised a hand and waved it in front of Stryker. "You will be silent." The man closed his mouth, his eyes bulging. "You will also stay absolutely still, and you will do exactly as I say."

Luke paused. Something didn't feel right. Was it his conscience again? Maybe, but there was something else too. He chose to ignore his dread.

"You will drop out of this presidential debate. You will give back the money you've accumulated so far. Then, you will retire from all public life and go to live in Puerto Rico, where you will never again become involved in politics, military matters, or espionage. You will lead a boring, normal life. Is that clear? Nod if you agree." Stryker nodded. "Good." Luke walked to the stairs, pausing at the edge. "Oh, and you'll forget you ever saw me. If anyone asks why you're doing all this, tell them Jesus told you to in a dream. Get some sleep, you'll do all this first thing tomorrow morning. Nighty night."

Stryker walked slowly back to his bedroom. As Luke reached the bottom of the stairs, he heard the former presidential candidate snoring like a sailor.

"See? Mission accomplished," he muttered. He was starting to feel quite good about what he'd done. Maybe his friends were still at Salem Center, getting pizza. Just as this thought popped into his head, his phone began to ring. The music of an 8-bit tune filled the room.

"Weird, I thought that was on silent," muttered Luke. If it had gone off any earlier, he would have been in a world of trouble. Checking the screen, he saw the words "Unknown Caller" flashing on the display. Shaking his head, he prayed to God that it wasn't one of those gosh-darned IRS scammers he'd been hearing about.

He swiped to the right and put the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Well, well, now there's a voice I haven't heard in a while," the voice said, an unmistakable English accent coloring his words. Luke froze mid stride towards the door. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came to mind. The voice on the other end wasn't quite so tongue-tied.

"Oh come on! Where are your manners? Aren't you going to say hello to your old man?"

A pause. "Hey, dad." More silence.

"What, that's it? We haven't spoken to each other in years, much less seen each other, and that's all you have to say? Well, that's disappointing."

Luke took a shaky breath. "I heard you'd died."

"And you heard correctly. I was dead, courtesy of Jessica-fucking-Jones!" He heard a hacking and spitting sound from the other end. "I tried to gain her love for so long and what did that get me?" A sigh. "But no matter, I've moved on. I see you've met the good pastor. But why'd you have him drop out of the race? It's been some of the best months of his life, and now you've gone and ruined it."

"What's this got to do with you?" asked Luke. "And you can see me?" He looked around the apartment and glanced over the security cameras dotting the corners of the ceiling. He'd already taken care of those. Unless…

"You know, you're not as clever as you think you are. I mean, you couldn't have known. As you said, everyone thinks I'm dead. But I had countermeasures in place in case you came knocking. I've kept an eye on you."

Luke nodded slowly. "The security guards. You're controlling them."

"Right in one. You know that feeling in the back of your head, the feeling that something's not quite right? I feel it too. It's like an alarm system. It lets me know when there's someone interfering with my gift. And you have it too."

"Gifts I didn't want, but thanks anyway. I'll use them to stop you."

"So bold! I like it! But you can't stop what's about to come. You might have put Stryker on the bench, but I have many other assets at my disposal. They'll get the job done, with or without him."

Luke's foot tapped a rhythm on the cold floor. "You still haven't told me why you're doing this."

The voice made a tutting noise. "You're smart, you should've figured it out by now. I didn't start this out purposely, you know. All I did was tell a pathetic drunkard in a bar to speak his mind. To show the world his vision for the future. It just so happens that this drunk was Stryker. And when I heard his plan, I saw an opportunity." The voice chuckled, and the sound of it sent chills down Luke's spine. "Funny how things turn out."

"Stryker wants to get rid of all mutants. That includes you too, dumbass," muttered Luke.

"Oh, I'll be perfectly fine, don't worry. I've had it all taken care of. You and your friends on the other hand? Not so much."

Luke gripped the phone tightly, his knuckles turning white. "You won't get near them."

"I most certainly can, and I will, sooner than planned, if you keep interfering. I'll have the entire American mutant population under lock and key." The voice chuckled once more. "And I'll have Jessica Jones under my thumb again."

"Aren't you the romantic. That's all this is about? Revenge?"

"No! Well, maybe a little. It's just an added bonus. I've got something much bigger planned. But I've said too much already. I'm going to give you a warning because we're family. Back. The fuck. Off. Or you and your friends will pay dearly for your mistakes."

The voice went silent. Luke was about lower the phone from his ear when he heard it again. "Oh, one more thing! Don't forget your shoes. It's cold out tonight, don't want you getting sick."

* * *

So Kilgrave was still alive. Luke had hoped to never hear his father's voice again. He didn't know how it was possible.

His breathing fanned out in front of him in clouds. He was outside again, walking until he could find another taxi to take him back to the mansion. His appetite had left him. He stood under a street lamp, its light flickering on and off like the lights at a rave party. A group of men stood off across the street from Luke. They looked rather menacing, their expressions flitting in and out of view. He could tell they wanted something from him, and he didn't feel like dealing with anymore riffraff tonight.

A taxi arrived just in time. As he watched the city's lights flash past his window, Luke cast his mind back to his father's warnings. He had no doubt Kilgrave could make good on them. He and his mother had lived in terror of the monster that had lived in their home for most of his childhood. Luke was well aware of his father's power.

He shook his head. It didn't matter what he'd said. Luke had a responsibility to his friends, to what was left of his true family. He would back off, for now. But when the time was right, he would strike back. He would need to be more careful, of course. But now that he'd decided to embrace his powers once more, he realized there was much he could do keep an eye for Kilgrave.

He would need help, too. One doesn't simply decide to investigate a nationwide conspiracy without professional help. And he knew exactly where to turn. As he walked up the steps of the mansion, his phone was in his hand. His fingers glided over the keyboard, and a name appeared in the search bar: Jessica Jones.

* * *

2nd AN: Hope you all enjoyed this! I know it's a little confusing to follow, so here's a brief rundown: Luke Ramirez is my original character. In this messy universe, he is the son of Kilgrave. Kilgrave, in case anyone doesn't know, has the ability to control people simply by telling them what to do. I'd highly recommend watching Jessica Jones on Netflix to get a better idea of this, or watch clips of him on Youtube. Naturally, this meant that Luke had a very troubled childhood. Kilgrave leaves the picture years before the story starts. Luke decides to enroll at Xavier's. That's the long and short of it. I haven't really planned out any other stories. This was simply an experiment.

Let me know what you guys think! Constructive criticism is highly encouraged. And if for some reason enough people want me to continue this story in some way, I'll definitely do my best to deliver.

Also, I know the political themes are very obvious. But please, there's no need for any arguments. I began writing this quite a few months ago, so you might see where I'm coming from. Either way, please don't look at it as some sort of political message or anything. This was just an idea floating around in my head.

Thanks for reading!


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